


First Time For Everything

by Funkspiel



Series: Kinktober 2017 [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Original Percival Graves, Dubious Consent, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Normally A Top Graves, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sleepy Sex, phantom sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/pseuds/Funkspiel
Summary: Percival Graves always has and always will be a top - it's nothing personal, just his motto. Until Grindelwald finds out, that is. And he's more than happy to 'help' Graves experience something new. There's a first time for everything, after all.Day 1: Sleepy Sex





	First Time For Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kallistob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kallistob/gifts).



_He knew Graves would be asleep by now. The hour was strange, late in the sense that it was now the early moments after the witching hour - just enough that Graves would think Grindelwald had spared him his presence for the day. Just enough that he would think that he could rest. And he would rest. Grindelwald knew the man had been catnapping and saving his energy as best he could — all in the hopes of escape. Such a determined man, his director. Fierce and foreboding in every aspect of his life. In his work, as a captive. Even in bed._

_Oh yes, Grindelwald had watched him. More than watched him, in fact, Grindelwald had bedded him. Under the guise of another, of course, but how else would he know Graves’ fire in bed? His drive. The long thrusts of his cock or the way he evidently bowed for no one._

_He had denied Grindelwald the pleasure of topping him politely enough. Had explained that he had never tried it, that he wasn’t interested. And he wouldn’t be hurt if that was a deal breaker for him._

_So Grindelwald squirreled the knowledge away. Waited until the opportune moment to strike. A moment when Graves would be malleable. The small drops of sleeping drought in his water would ensure his drowsiness would not fade either. He wouldn’t want Graves competent enough to end their little game with a well placed spell, after all. So he waited until he knew Graves would not be able to resist sleep any longer…_

_And then he struck._

 

Graves was fuzzy. Mind caught in a slow churn as he pulled himself from the dregs of a deep sleep suddenly interrupted. Too quick to be easy, sleep clinging to him hard. He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut, confused. What time was it? Had he managed to sleep long? Why was it so hot, why was it so tight, so wet, so — he sucked in a sharp breath the moment something touched him. Inappropriate and hidden, down where he had never been touched. The push of a wet, hot digit. He sat up, but sleep still dogged him. Heavy like sand, slowing him down as he registered the fact that nothing had in fact touched him. He was still clad in his ratty trousers, only…

Fuck, he was hard. Not just a morning semi, but hard and pulsing against the seam of his pants. He hissed, reached down to brush his fingers across it, only to freeze as the feeling at his anus returned again. A fingertip pressing in, followed by the soft swipe of a tongue. His back arched, air punching from his lungs in a gust as the strange sensation of being penetrated slowly dragged over him. He reached back to confirm what he already knew — nothing was there.

But that didn’t stop the feeling. The feeling of a finger sliding slowly up his tract. Curling twice before pulling out and shoving in again. Tongue hot and moist around the puffy edges of his anus. He bit his knuckles and tried to clear his mind. Surely this was the remnant of a dream.

But it wasn’t. Another finger slid in, and he wailed. He collapsed back, body flat against the floor of his prison as he arched against the feeling of intrusion. He had never _taken_ anything before. He had never wanted to, had never been interested. He preferred to give, to have control, to be in power. He preferred to top.

But he couldn't deny the buzz slowly building between his ass cheeks. Finger tips stroking his velvety insides, curious and strange. It wasn’t unpleasant, though nothing like what the men he normally bedded made it look to be — or so he thought until the moment one of those fingers crooked, and he screamed. Nerves bled into sudden life within him. A wave of warmth rolling up his spine in a gush. Spreading gooseflesh across his skin in its travels, leaving him tight and shivering and wrecked. He barely had a moment to register the feeling, let alone come to grips with it, before another press had him wailing.

 

_“Harder,” Grindewald gasped in Graves’ voice, through Graves’ lips, wearing Graves’ face in a bedroom somewhere in New York. The necklace around his throat glowing as the stranger between his legs crooked his fingers again, more than happy to oblige such a handsome, wanton man. Grindelwald sucked in a contented sigh, his smile both satisfied in the sensation and in the knowledge of what it was no doubt doing for him — and for Graves._

 

He couldn’t shake the muzzy feeling of sleep from his mind. His thoughts soft and fuzzy, unable to cast any counter spells against the magic no doubt at work here. All he could do was writhe, trying to escape it. But no matter how he twisted or turned, the feeling followed. Leaving him teary eyed and overwhelmed until the moment a third digit entered him and spread themselves wide — his asshole spreading around nothing beneath the seat of his trousers.

Graves wailed in earnest on the floor. Hands scrabbling at nothing as those fingers contracted only to spread all over again. Easing the muscles of his ass until his rim was hot and puffy and soft. 

Something wet gushed from his hole, followed by the feeling of fingers being replaced by something larger, something blunt.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled, but the thing didn't stop — instead filling him with its phantom length. He tossed his head back and wailed, because how had he never known about this? How had he thought he wouldn't enjoy this? He found himself to be just as loud as any man he had bent beneath his hand. His voice ripping his throat raw as he keened and moaned in abandon, too sleepy and too confused and too overwhelmed to stop himself. Tears burned the sides of his cheeks and he tossed his head this way and that. Hips rutting against nothing, seeking friction and depth that didn’t exist, completely out of control.

 

_“Bend me in half,” Grindelwald ordered, “I want to feel how deep you can go.”_

_Grinning, the stranger obliged again._

 

Graves opened his mouth to scream, but his voice didn’t follow. His eyes rolled back on a soundless cry as his neck tensed, every muscle becoming rigid and bowed around the feeling of that cock in his ass going even deeper, dragging across his prostate on every stroke. His cock leaked a slow but steady dribble of pre-cum onto his belly, pulsing thick globs with each passing stroke across the small bundle of nerves. 

He wound his hands into his hair and tried to bear the sensations, tried to stay sane, but each drag set a blazing stripe of fire up his spine and across his extremities, and Graves knew he wouldn’t survive this. 

 

_“Touch me,” Grindelwald finally gasped, and the stranger did._

 

And that’s all it took. One touch, fingers enclosing around him even tucked away into his pants as he was, and he was coming. Soiling his only pair of trousers, filling them with his spend. His energy seeping from him in a tremendous gust, leaving him limp and lifeless seconds after. Chest heaving, vision spotted with dancing stars. His asshole throbbed as the phantom cock within it suddenly exploded, warmth filling his belly, and he whined at the feeling. Whined as the cock left him in a slow slurp, his hole hollow and winking, trying to suck it back in.

He shivered, alone and taken, and he knew he would never be the same.

 

_Grindelwald smiled when finally he returned to Graves’ prison only to find the man clad in soiledpants, crotch dark and stained, utterly boneless on the ground. Eyes blank and staring, exhausted and blissed out._

_He knelt down to grab that handsome chin between his thumb and pointer finger, his thumb stroking a firm line over slack lips, and grinned._

_“Beautiful. I think next time we’ll try out milking.”_


End file.
